Part 9

"The old folks told us ghost stories but I never seed a ghost but once, after I was married. Me and some men was walkin' down the Shreveport road and saw a big house all lit up and fiddlin' and dancin' goin' on inside. But when we got close the music stops and the lights went out. When we got on past a piece it lit up and the fiddlin' starts 'gain. I wasn't scared, but we didn't hang round to see what made it do that way.

"Some of the cullud folks on our place could read and write. They larned it theyselves. The white folks didn't larn 'em. All they larned 'em was to work hard. But they took care of us when we was sick and old women made lots of medicine. There was boneset tea and willow tea and shuck tea and cottonseed tea for chills and fever and Jerusalum Oak for worms.

"Master left Mississippi for Texas 'bout time the war got goin' good, with his fam'ly and sixty slaves. We'd been on the road three weeks when a gang of Yankees come on us one day at dinner. The niggers scatters like birds. 'Bout half of 'em never come back, but the rest of us come on and settled seven miles southwest of Mooringsport, in Louisiana. Young master went to the war after we got there and come home sev'ral times. But they didn't talk the war 'mongst us cullud folks.

"Nothin' special happened the day they said we was free, 'cept some of 'em didn't stay ten minutes. Master told 'em if they'd stay he'd give them the third and fourth. The ones who left wasn't promised nothin' and didn't git nothin'. My folks stayed for 'most twenty years after 'mancipation, workin' on the halves.

"I left my folks in '73 and come to Jimmie D. Scott's place, in Texas, 'bout eight miles east of Marshall, and worked for $10.00 the month. That's where I met Liza Montecue, who is my wife. She was born on the Scott's place the same year I was born. We moved to Marshall in '76 and I got a job in the railroad shops and worked till the big strike in 1922. I didn't belong to the strike but the strikers wouldn't let me work. After they run me off my job, I never could get back on and had to make a livin' at anythin' I could find till my boy got in the CCC camp. I been married sixty-four years and raised eight children, and three of 'em lives here and works at anythin' they can find to make a dollar."

Ella Washington

*Ella Washington, 82, was born a slave of Dave Mann, in St. Mary's Parish, Louisiana. When the slaves were freed in Louisiana Ella was taken to Calvert, Texas, and put on the Barton plantation. Soon after the civil war she came to Galveston, and lives with her daughter, who supports herself and her mother by taking in washing.*

"You got to 'scuse how I looks, 'cause I been out in de back yard helpin' my daughter with de washin'. She allus fuss at me 'cause I work like dat, but I tells her jes' 'cause I is a old woman ain't no reason why I got to act like one.

"I don't know for sho' jes' when I'm birthed, but my sister allus say I's one year and six months older'n her and she say she's birthed 'bout 1857. Dey didn't make no record den like now. I thinks old massa, Dave Mann, keep some kind record on us, but he been dead de long time.

"My mammy and pappy was name Meine, Car'line and Charles Meine. De slaves used to take de massa's name and sometimes when dey sold dey drap de old name and take de new massa's name. Dat how come it so hard to keep up with dem.

"Massa Mann sho' nice but him and he missy die and Massa Jim Ross step into dere shoes on de plantation. Us gits swamp den. When you git swamp dat mean you got to live with a mean man. He sho' was mean, too.

"De plantation was big and 'bout a hundred slaves on it. Dey work dem hard, too, sometimes till nine o'clock at night. A lot of dem run away but dey sic de nigger dogs on dere trail and cotch dem. When dey cotch dem dey whup dem. Dey put sticks in de ground and tie dere hands and feet to dem. Some places dey strip dem naked and whip dem.

"Sometimes Massa Jim 'low us go to de Catholic Church at Marion. Dey wouldn't 'low us to pray by ourself. But we sneaks off and have pot prayin'. Two men carry de great big hog pot dey uses to scald hogs and take it out in de woods and us stick de head in it and pray. All de noise go in de pot and you couldn't hear it outside.

"Old massa fed us good, meal and syrup and meat 'nough to last. He give us watermelons every Sunday. But Massa Jim didn't 'lieve in pamperin' niggers, he say. He didn't give us much to eat and de houses leak 'cause de walls rotten.

"One time he take de notion to sell us. He put my mother and me and sister on de block up in Marion. Us all cryin' hard, 'cause us thunk us gwine git sep'rate. Den I looks up sudden and right at my young miss, Miss Mary. She so mad she pale like de ghost. She say, 'Ella, you git 'way from dat block and come over to me, and you too, Della.' Me and my sister runs over dere to her and wrop ourself round her dress and hold on with all our might. De massa come after us and Miss Mary say, 'What you mean sellin' my slaves?' He say us slaves his and she say, do he want to have to prove what he say. Den she start in and raise so much sand he have to call mammy down off de block and take us back home.

"I heared everybody say a war goin' on and my uncle and cousin run 'way to de head bureau, where de Yankees at. My mammy say it at Milligan, Texas. Time dey ready for freedom in Louisiana, dey refugees us to Texas, in de wagons. Us travel all day and half de night and sleep on de ground. It ain't take us so long to git to Calvert, out dere in de bottom of Texas, and dey puts us on de Barton plantation. We's diggin' potatoes dere when de Yankees come up with two big wagons and make us come out of de fields and free us. Dere wasn't no cel'bration 'bout it. Massa say us can stay couple days till us 'cide what to do.

"Well, den somethin' funny happen dere. De slaves all drinks out an old well. Dey'd drink water in de mornin' and dey'd have de cramps awful bad 'bout dinner time and in de evenin' dey's dead. Dey dies like flies, so fast dey couldn't make de coffins for dem. Dey jes' sew dem up in sacks and bury dem dat way. Some de slaves say massa put de poison in de well. I don't know what kill dem but it sho' look funny.

"Mammy and me goes to Calvert and hires out, but 'fore long us come to Galveston and pappy go back to Louisiana. If he ain't dead he still live dere in St. Mary's Parish. I never seen him no more.

"I marries 'bout 1886, and stays right here in Galveston. I seen Wright Cuney lots of times but I ain't never knowed him to talk to. I 'member when dey say he be governor some day, but dey ain't gwine have no cullud man governor. Course, he did git to congress."

Rosa Washington

*Rosa Washington is 90 years old and lives in her own little adobe house at 3911 Manzana St., El Paso, Texas. She was born a slave of the Watson family, on a large plantation seven miles from St. Joe, Louisiana. Her parents came from Georgia. After the Civil War she left her former owners, but later returned and was with them until they died. She came to Texas in 1921, and her three children provide for her. Her son, Le Roy, has been in the U.S. Emigration service in El Paso for 27 years.*

"My name's Rosa Washington and my husban' was Joe Washington. He's been dead a long time. I was bo'n on a big plantation, white man's name Bill Watson, wife Ann Watson, seven miles from St. Joe. Mama had four chillen and I had seven. Marster had a fine house and plenty of slaves. I dunno how many.

"'Fore we was free we was in the fiel' workin' and they come out and got us. Everybody threw up their hands and started to run. The Yanks busted open a sugar hogshead and give everybody all they wanted. Dey threw all de milk away and dey carried our marster away by force and tuk him to jail in Vicksburg. Our missus wept. When the Yankees got us, dey tuk us about three miles from whar we live, put us in a fine house, give us plenty to eat until war's ended. Me and my chillen and my father and mother were together there.

"We had a good cabin on the plantation, made out-a planks, ole rip-rap plunder. Dey treated us good. I worked in water garden, worked in fiel's when 10 years old. Hoe'd my row every day. Dey didn' whop me, though. My mistress wouldn' let 'em. Marsa and missus good to me. I not tell lie on 'em. Tell truf. Truf shines.

"I seed niggers put in stocks, put 'em in stocks head in fust. Tear their clothes off backs, whop till sores come, den dey pour coal oil and turpentine in sores. I see dat with my own eyes. My dad druv the carriage, carried 'em 'round all time. My mother worked in the fiel' like I do. Work every day. Dey give us everything to eat. Marster and missus, too, give plenty, but if ole cow died with cholera, they give to us niggers. I got good shoes once a year. When marster went to New Orleans, mama had to tie my feet up in rags. I had to work with the rest of 'em. Got up at 4 o'clock. We he'ped on other plantations when dey'd git behind. Go he'p 'em out.

"I waited on overseers table, Joe Crusa. He was mean. He stuck a fork in my head. Ole Aunt Clarissie cooked for us. She cook in cabin for us, had big fireplace. She cook for all niggers on the place. She was mean to me, never married. She had two rooms, all she do was cook, tell lies on me to white overseer. That woman told a lie on me 'cause said I lef' a fork dirty. He look at it, says, 'Who rubbed dis fork?' Woman says, 'Rosa,' and he stuck the fork in my head. Missus turn him off nex' day.

"We had co'nbread, no sugar, plenty okra and coffee; plenty milk, 'cause they had 17 cows. They give us clabber and peaches. Every day overseer blow horn in yard to wake us up, a bugle at four o'clock Sundays. We take cotton outta fiel' and put it up on scaffold to dry iffen it rain. Overseer sit in dry, big overcoat on; we work in mud and rain. One mornin' they carried us to stockhouse to whip us. My missus and marster never let 'em whip me, but no white folks he'p me to read and write. He'p me to do nothin' but work.

"White folks had church. I couldn' go. I hadda mind the white chillen every Sunday. Cullud people had to go way back in woods to have church. Never let white folks see 'em. Had to slip and hide to have our church, run like deer if foun' out. Marster never know a bit more'n this chair whar we was gwine. He couldn' ask us on Sunday, it be against the law. Iffen niggers run away, dogs 'ud catch 'em.

"Dey had doctor right dere. Kep' us well. Kep' us well so's we could work. Brother-in-law to marster.

"When the niggers was married, dey put a broom down and dey jump over the broom, same time missus and marster'd marry 'em. He'd marry 'em and she as witness. Sometimes celebrate. She'd cook 'em some cake, give 'em a fine dress. We'd take meat and skillets down to the bar on Sundays. Had fish frys. Wouldn' take no fussy chillen to the bar. We chillen would have fish fry whar dey couldn't watch us.

"Had to go to gin at four o'clock in evenin'. Couldn' play week-days, had to go in cabin and be still. Never got to play much till Yankees come and got us, but we had a big ball and dance in yard Christmas. Had candy, dey give us dresses and socks and a good feast for Christmas. Give us things for 4th of July. Dey give us dat day. No, dey wouldn' whip us dat day. We had a big quiltin' Christmas day. We'd piece de quilts outta scraps. Some couldn' quilt. Dey'd dance in de yard all day.

"We niggers got wool clothes in winter, good clothes woven on de place. Marster had black sheep and white sheep. He bought our summer clothes in New Orleans--linsey, calicy, plaid, some white ones. Dey'd give us color what we like.

"Sure, I seed ghosts. Dey come with no head, come outta de fiel' one night so late, 'bout eight, nine o'clock. I was scared, yes, suh, I sure was scared, but my mammy say, 'Dey ain' goin' to hurt you, baby.' Dey scare me. My mammy give me beads for my neck, china-berry beads to keep me well. They's pretty. I never had no other kind.

"We never git no money befo' freedom. I stay away from Marster and missus de first year, den go back. Dey give us 50c a day after war. Had to pay for rations. Better since war, though. No whippin's goin' on like they did 'fore.

"I'se a full Baptist--been ever since '67. I'se happy. Sometimes I gits too happy. I don' move till de spirit move me. I goes to church when I'se able. But I'se gittin' too old to go now--I'se just waitin' to go home."

Sam Jones Washington

*Sam Jones Washington, 88, was born a slave of Sam Young, who owned a ranch along the Colorado River, in Wharton Co., Texas. Sam was trained to be a cowhand, and worked for his master until 1868, receiving wages after he was freed. He farmed until 1905, then moved to Fort Worth and worked in the packing plants until 1931. He lives at 3520 Columbus Ave., Fort Worth, and is supported by an $11.00 per month old age pension, supplemented by what Sam raises in his garden and makes out of a few hogs.*

"How old I is? I's 16 year when surrender come. I knows dat, 'cause of massa's statement. All us niggers gits de statement when surrender come. I's seed plenty slave days.

"Massa Young run de small farm 'long de Colorado River and him don't own many slaves. Dere my mammy and her six chillen, and Majoria and her four chillens. My pappy am not on de place. I don't know my pappy. Him am what dey calls de travelin' nigger. Dey have him come for service and when dey gits what dey wants, he go back to he massa. De womens on Massa Young place not married.

"Massa raise jes' a little cotton, dat two womens and de chillen could tend to, and some veg'tables and sich. Us have lots of good food. Us sleep in de sleepin' room, nex' to massa's house, but I sleeps in massa's room.

"One night massa say, 'Don't tie my hoss to de stake tonight.' But I's sleepy and gits de nodfies and draps off to sleep. Mammy shake me and say, 'Did you stake de hoss?' Massa sees dat hoss in de mornin' and say, 'You done stake dat hoss and I told you not to.' He gives me couple licks and I larns to do what I's told. He never whip nobody, not de hard whippin' like other niggers gits. He am de good massa.

"I fust runs errands and den massa larn me to ride, soon's I could sit de hoss. Den I stays out with de cattle mos' de time and I's tickled. I sho' likes to ride and rope dem cattle and massa allus fix me up with good clothes and good hoss and good saddle. I stays dere till long after surrender.

"Us have stampedes from de cattle. Dat am cust'mary with dem critters. Dat mean ride de hoss to turn de cattle. Us ride to side de leader and crowd him and force him to turn, and keep forcin' him, and by and by dem critters am runnin' in de circle. Dat keep dem from scatterment. Dat sho' dangerous ridin'. If de hoss throw you off dem cattle stamp you to death. Gabriel sho' blow he horn for you den!

"I sho' 'joys dat business, 'cause we'uns have de good time. Us go to town and have fun. One time I comes near gittin' in trouble, but it ain't my fault. I's in town and massa, too, and a white man come to me and him show de drink. 'Who you 'long to, nigger?' he say. 'I's Massa Young's nigger,' I says, polite-like. 'You looks like de smart nigger and I's de notion smack you one,' he say. 'You better not smack me any,' I says. You unnerstand, dat de way massa raise me. I don't unnerstand some cruel white mens gits de arg'ment, jus' for de chance to shoot de nigger. Massa am standin' near by and him come up and say, 'If you touches dat nigger, I'll put de bullet through you.' Dat man see massa have no foolishment in he words and gits gwine. But if massa am not dere, Gabriel blow he horn for dis nigger's Jubilee, right den, yes, sar.

"I comes near gittin' cotched by de patterrollers once. I's jus' 12 den and 'nother nigger and me, us want some cane stalk. It good to eat raw, you knows. Jus' peel de bark off and chew dat inside. Well, we'uns in de man's cane patch, breakin' dem stalks and dey makes de poppin' noise. A patterroller come by and hear dat poppin', and holler, 'Who's dere in de cane patch?' Us didn't answer him, no, sar. I 'cides right quick dat I don't like cane and I comes 'way from dat patch. I outsmarts and outruns dat patterroller. I keeps to de cane fields and de woods and I runs dis way and dat way. I twists 'round so he couldn't follow my tracks. Like de snake's track, you can't tell if it am gwine north or comin' back. Lawd a'mighty! How fast I runs. I stays 'head of my shadow. I tells you, I's a-gwine!

"De war? White man, we'uns didn't know dere am de war. We seed some sojers at de start, but dat all. One day massa say to me, 'After dis, you gits $15.00 de month wages. I works for him three more years and den he sold out. Den I goes farmin' till 1905. I works in de packin' plants here in Fort Worth den, till I's wore out, 'bout six year ago. Now I raises de hawgs, not very many, and does what work I can git. Dat pension from de State sho' holps me. With dat and de hawgs and de little garden I gits by, and so I lives.

"Was I ever marry? Man, man, three time. Fust time, 'bout 1869 and we'uns gits de seperment in 1871. Dat woman sho' deal me mis'ry! She am de troublin' woman. Den 'bout 1873 I marries 'gain and she die 'fore long. Den in 1905 I marries 'gain and she's dead, too. I never has de chillen. I's jus' 'lone and old now, and stay here till my time comes. I 'spect it quite a spell yit, 'cause I's got lots of substance left, yes, sar."

William Watkins

*William Watkins, born 1850, to Julia and Hudson Watkins. All were slaves on the Watkins plantation where William was born, on the edge of Charlotte County, Virginia. William is tall, heavy set, and does not look his age. He lives with William Branch, who came from an adjoining county in Virginia. Both men served in the same campaigns in the United States Army.*

"My name is William Watkins. De name comes frum de name of Terbaccer Watkins, who owned de Watkins Terbaccer Plantation. He got a factory in Richmond and de plantation in Charlotte County in Virginia, 'bout 50 mile east of Richmond. Marse Watkins got a big frame house and 400 acres and 100 acres is terbaccer. Yassuh, dey's other crops--barley, wheat, oats, and den dey's stock--hogs, cows, hosses and mules.

"We lives in log cabins wid plank floors and we made de beds ourself. Dey feeds us good and we gits milk and bread and lotsa pork. Marse Watkins got lotsa hawgs.

"Yassuh, we's got a church. De slaves built it in de woods. We never got no wages but sometimes he give us four bits or six bits. What we do wid it? We buys candy. Sometimes we run de rabbits or goes fishing. De Marster gives us lil' patches of groun'. He's good but de overseer's rough. He whips all de slaves.

"Dey's a patrol what watches for slaves dat runs away, but we don't have no patrol on our plantation. We has dances Sat'day nights. Sundays we didn't wuk much.

"Dey's ghosts dere--we seed 'em. Dey's w'ite people wid a sheet on 'em to scare de slaves offen de plantation. We wears charms to keep us well. Dere's asafoetida in a bag and we wear's it roun' de neck. It cure most ev'ryting. When we gits real sick, dey sends medicine frum de big house.

"Ev'ry year de slave traders comes and de Marster sells some slaves down river to New Orleans. Who dey sell? Jes' no count slaves. Dey walks all de way. De traders dey rides in ox-carts. We never wuk much Sundays, only to milk de cows. Jes' dat. Yessuh, I was married on de plantation. De preacher say de words and we's married.

"Den de war come and de Yankees come down thick as leaves. Dey burns de big house and de slave houses and ev'ryting. Dey turns us loose. We ain't got no home nor nuthin' to eat, 'cause dey tells us we's free.

"We's gotta leave de plantation. De Marster's gone, de crops is gone, de stock's gone. We goes to anudder place and works on shares. De first time we sees de Ku Klux is right after de war. Dey whips de slaves what leaves de plantations, dey don' wan' dem to be free.

"Bout 1870 I goes to Ohio and enlists in de army at Jefferson Barracks and right off dey sends us to Texas to fight Indians. I goes to San Antonio and dey puts me on guard at de Alamo to fight off de Indians. Den I goes to Fort Davis. I'm in de cullud Indian Scouts, Co. K, and dey's a banker name of Miller in de Chihuahua jail. One night de kuhnel takes us from Fort Davis, and we marches all night wid guns and 150 rounds of ammunition in belts, and rations for 30 days. We marches all night long twel we gits to Del Norte, Texas(Presidio) and we crosses de river and takes Mr. Miller out of jail.

"While we's at Fort Davis a wagon train comes through de canyon and de Apaches rolls big rocks down on de white people and kills 26 of dem. Dey scalps all dey kills and we go out and fit de Apaches. De lieutenant is killed in de fight. Yassuh, we fit Apaches all de time and when we goes to Fort Concho dey gives us a fit all 'long de road. Den we fitten de Cheyennes and dey is wust of all. Dey's great big Indians 'bout seven feet tall and at de battle of de Wichita in de Indian Territory a Cheyenne shoots an arrer through my wrist. (He exhibited the scar. Same battle described in interview with Wm. Branch.)

"Den after my wound heals we's sent to Fort Clark and de sergeant, Jeff Walker, got it in for me. Kuhnel Andrews is at Fort Davis and Jeff Walker trumps up some charges dat I'se mistrusted, so dey gives me a dishonnuble discharge 'cause of dat Jeff Walker. I ain't had no court martial nor no trial and I cain't git no pension 'count of de dishonnuble discharge.

"And now I'se strong and well but I cain't git no wuk 'cause I'se so ole. And 'cause Jeff Walker didn't like me, I gits a dishonnuble discharge."

Dianah Watson

*Dianah Watson, 102, was born a slave of Tom Williams, at New Orleans. In 1870, Dianah went to Jefferson, Texas. She now lives with a married daughter in the Macedonia Community, five miles northwest of Marshall, Tex.*

"My name am Dianah Watson and I used to keep my age, but I done got sick and can't 'member it now. I can't say 'zactly how old I is but I's a past-growed woman when the war broke out, and my old missy's daughter done told me once out the book I's borned in 1835.

"I's borned and bred 'bout a half mile from New Orleans. My mammy was s*arah Hall and she's borned in Galveston, and my papa was Bill Williams. My old missy done take me from my mammy when I's a small baby and raised me to a full-growed woman. I slep' in the same room with my young missy and had a good time in slavery, didn't suffer for nothin' and never was cut and slashed like some. Me and Miss Laura come right up together and I's her own nigger slave.

"Massa Williams treated his black folks with 'spect. They was in the field from 'fore day till dark, but they was took good care of and fed and plenty clothes. Old Master Tom done the bossin' hisself and when he's dyin' he calls all his five boys to his bed and say, 'Boys, when I's gone, I don*t want no cuttin' and slashin' my niggers. They's got feelin' same as us.'

"But the oldes' boy, William, got the debbil in him and hires a overseer, and he rid in the fields with a quirt and rope and chair on his saddle. When he done take a notion to whip a nigger, he'd make some the men tie that nigger to the chair and beat him somethin' scand'lous. He got mad at my mother's sister, Aunt Susie Ann, and beat her till the blood run off her on the ground. She fall at his feets like she passed out and he put up the whip and she trips him and gits the whip and whips him till he couldn't stand up. Then some the niggers throwed him off a cliff and broke his neck. His folks gits the sheriff but master's boys orders him off the place with a gun. There warn't no more overseers on the place after that.